


Disclosure

by missdibley



Series: Settle [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Ambiguity, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, London AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Michael Fassbender's evening with his old friend (and former favorite escort) Paula is cut short when they're joined, or interrupted, by Tom Hiddleston.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story picks up right where "I Belong to You" left off.
> 
> I have a background story for Tom and Paula, so that's where we're going. Apologies for the Fassbender fangirls out there.

And now Michael was being tedious.

Paula could tell, by the way he tugged at her. Clutching at her as Tom made his presence known. She liked Michael but she could have done without this. Because she wasn’t going anywhere. He had paid up, double her usual rate plus a tip for the extras. As far as she was concerned, she was still on the job.

Shrugging him off, Paula walked around the bench to accept a peck and a hug from Tom. Despite the brevity of that greeting, he managed to slip his arm slowly down the curve of her back.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Paula shrugged. “Probably not the way I would have chosen to reacquaint ourselves but…” As she trailed off, Tom let loose with a warm, genuine laugh before pulling her into his arms for a proper hug and a nuzzle to her left cheek.

Michael should have been more careful. He could have waited until they were truly alone, long gone from the party, and tucked away in a hotel. But it had been nearly two years since he’d seen her, almost three years since he had last fucked her, and being sentimental as well as shameless he got carried away.

Even so, a jumped up school boy like Tom Hiddleston should have known better than to interrupt. Something inside Michael twitched when Tom approached, smiling like the smug prick he was, and called Paula by her real name. Taking his time to tuck away his own heavy cock that, Michael couldn’t help but notice, rivaled the girth of his own.

“So who was that you had back there?” Paula asked, straightening Tom’s tie.

Tom yawned indulgently. “Old friend,” he said.

“Do I know… him?” Paula teased. “Her?’

Tom shook his head. “You don’t know…” He grinned. “Them.”

“Asshole.” Paula sounded positively  _ fond _ .

Michael cleared his throat, which served to break up whatever this…  _ thing _ was between Paula and Tom. Remind them he was there, as if they didn’t already know. He withdrew a foil packet from his pocket, ripped it open, and used the wipe enclosed within to clean his hands. Tossing it on the ground, he joined Paula to take her by the hand and escort her back into the party.

Their re-entry was discreet, for almost everybody was gone on drink or whatever mystery substance it was that gave some of the younger guests glassy, vacant eyes. They quietly found a corner, near a high-topped table where Paula could set down her bag, and Michael set out his phone.

If Tom’s accomplice was still there, mingling as a guest or even working as a server, his face didn’t give him away. He wore a placid expression, looking almost like an angel as he plucked three flutes of Champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. When Michael rejected a glass, as Tom knew he would took it for himself. Paula couldn’t help winking at Tom as he waggled the two drinks at her when she raised her own in a toast.

Tom had no problem backing off. Paula was working, and he respected that. But when he noticed Michael doing his damndest not to glare at him, even as he set his own jaw, and the way Paula’s neck looked so ripe as she tipped her head back to drink, Tom couldn’t help himself. He was compelled to spill some of his own Champagne as he drank, the golden liquid cascading from his own lips, spilling down his chin before it trickled onto Paula’s neck and cleavage.

“Hey!” Paula was startled, but not alarmed when she saw Tom biting back a laugh. “You did that on purpose.”

“Me?” Tom played coy, and badly at that. “Somebody pushed me.”

“Very funny, Hiddleston,” Michael growled. He ran his eyes up and down Paula’s body, checking the clingy black dress for any stains. “Paula, you alright love?”

“It’s fine. It’s just Champagne, and he didn’t mean anything.”

Michael nodded. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” Tom said.

“What’s a little bubbly on my tits when I’ve already got…” She snorted. “When I’ve already got your cum on my thighs?”

Tom, to his credit, remained impassive. Not even the hint of a smirk crossed his lips as he waited for Michael to do or say something.

Michael tried to laugh it off, but he didn’t sound convincing. He curled the fingers of his right hand to form a fist, and Paula couldn’t help but get a little turned on. She wondered.

Would he rough her up? She liked that.

Would he fight Tom? She imagined that.

Would he fuck her? Would Tom fuck her, too?

She wanted that.

Before she could find out, Michael’s phone went off, buzzing and lighting up. He picked it up and took the call, holding one hand over his mouth so his words would be heard by whoever was on the other end of the line.

Paula looked up to find Tom coolly looking around the room. For a moment, she felt alone and forgotten. This wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. But now Michael was acting hurt, or jealous, or territorial. And Tom, it seemed, was looking for a way out. Whatever it was, it was weird, and she wished she knew how to stop it.

Michael ended the call, put his phone in his pocket, and sighed. The tension in his face and in his body was gone, and his hands were now open. When Paula peered at him, he smiled apologetically. “I’ve, erm, I’ve got to get going,” he mumbled.

“Okay.” Paula nodded. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to take you home.”

“That’s fine,” Paula said. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s not an emergency, but I should leave. Take care Al—” He stopped himself. “Take care of a thing.” Michael shook his head.

“That’s fine,” Paula repeated.

Michael kissed her on the cheek, then glanced at Tom. “Sorry, mate.”

“No worries, man.” Taking a step back, Tom let Michael pass without having to push him aside. Paula watched him go, a rueful smile curling her lips.

“I… shouldn’t have said that,” Paula said.

“The joke, such as it was?” Tom smirked. “I was going to say something…”

“Yeah?”

“But I wasn’t sure of what to say,” he confessed. “Do I laugh, try to defuse the situation?”

“I’m not sure that would have worked.”

“Well, then you’ll love the alternative,” Tom drawled. “Which was to point out the hypocrisy of him getting offended when he had just bent you over and fucked you raw in plain sight of me while I myself was being serviced by… well…” He smirked. “You know.”

Paula rolled her eyes. “First of all, no, I don’t.”

“And you never will,” Tom pointed out.

“And I’m not so sure it would have been hypocritical of you to remind him of how we all came to…” Paula grinned. “Of how we all  _ came _ , full stop.”

Laughing now, Tom took her arm. “Care for another drink?”

Paula shook her head.

“May I take you home?”

Paula whispered: “No.”

Tom leaned in and murmured. “Are you sure?”

She wondered what he saw in her. A former party girl turned accidental escort. A friendly face from his younger years, when she was wild and he was free. Never friends but friendly, Paula maintaining a distance in respect to his burgeoning career.

It had never mattered when it came to Michael, or Ben, or James, or any of the others, the distance. Only when it came to Tom.

Only.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Paula catch up, as old friends are wont to do.

They walked out together, Tom excusing himself briefly when his phone rang with a call. Paula lingered, just out of earshot, and studied her old friend Tom.

The beard was good. The hair, better. She liked that he wore his glasses when he needed to, and that he dressed more casually even for industry events such as this.

The incident with Michael was awkward, but mercifully brief. She decided if Michael wanted to see her again, she’d remind him of the terms and conditions of their arrangement.

As soon as Tom finished his call, he was back and holding Paula’s hand.

Noticing the scowl on his lips, Paula asked “What’s with the face?”

Tom held up his phone. “Luke.”

“He still doesn’t like me, does he?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…”

Paula stroked his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s fine. He’s your publicist.” She paused. “ _ Just _ your publicist, right?”

Tom snorted. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

_ “Tom.” _

_ “Paula.” _

Tom draped an arm around Paula, and she responded by slipping her arm around his waist. Just under the jacket, she flexed her hands over his lean hips.

“That’s over, right?”

Tom nodded. “For a long time.”

“Is there anybody now?”

“No. Not since…” Tom huffed. “You know.”

“Yeah,” Paula said, squeezing his hand. “Didn’t I tell you never to trust American girls?”

“You’re American,” Tom retorted.

“I’m the exception,  _ obviously _ .” Paula rolled her eyes. “But yes, I totally warned you.”

“And when did you tell me that?” Tom frowned.

“When old what’s her face was in town three years ago.” Paula smirked. “Miss ‘I don’t know how to get into a taxi.’”

Despite himself, Tom laughed. “She’s a friend, Paula.”

“You made such a cute couple,” Paula said. “Her with her perpetually blank face, and you with all that bronzer.”

“Stop being an asshole,” Tom admonished her.

“And she was so uptight! Who the fuck asks for the vegan wine list at a Camden shithole?”

“You could have been nicer.”

“I guess. It’s just…” Paula huffed. “I find that I have little patience for the well and truly dumb.”

Tom roared, and Paula felt him laugh as well as heard him. It had been so long since she’d made him laugh, made him smile. He seemed to be in a better place than he was two years ago.

They were still walking, slowing as they came to an intersection with a busier thoroughfare. The tube was close, and taxis driving past were closer.

“Have you been seeing a lot of Michael lately?” Tom asked.

Paula shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Not since they moved to Lisbon, fly under the radar. Try to blend in with the hipster expats.”

“I see,” Tom said. “Anybody else? Anybody I know.”

Paula nudged. “I think you know the answer to that.”

It was an unique arrangement, as far as Paula knew.

For she was a mere civilian, with no aspirations of fame. She didn’t think of herself as beautiful, or talented. Not special. Once upon a time she was a party girl, disarming and charming Michael, then Ben, Tom, and the rest, when they were young up-and-comers. And as they progressed, so did she. No longer just a party girl, but an escort.

She preferred consort, sometimes courtesan when she was feeling cheeky. A consort to this select group of gentlemen. Friends and acquaintances who remembered her spirit as a young woman, and appreciated her warmth and discretion later on. So, over the years, they shared her.

She was available when they got bored or wanted to try something new. Things their wives or girlfriends or usual sexual partners would not or could not do, without the fear of blackmail or betrayal.

Paula was their indulgence, and their investment. And it had been enough, so much so that she never had to consider advertising her services on the open market. So she served only them. Pleased only them. Fucked only them.

All except one — Tom.

They could never make it work. That’s what they told themselves. Tom’s schedule had more out of town engagements, and he was naturally deferential to the others who always seemed to need her more than he. And as it was up to her to determine the when and the how often, Paula couldn’t help but be monopolized by Michael’s needy dominance, or Ben needing an escape from the coziness of family life.

It didn’t help that Tom’s team, meaning Luke, held her at greater length than the others’ did. Luke knew who she was, what she was. Women and men like her were rampant in the industry. Hiding in plain sight as freelance publicists and personal assistants, house sitters and dog walkers. But as he had not had much success in his efforts to manage more intimate parts of Tom’s private life, Luke suspected he was out of chances to wield influence in that sphere.

Luke was right to be suspicious.

Tom was keeping his head down, settling in at home with a dog and an orderly life. He didn’t want to hear any more proposals about starlets to woo, go on coffee dates with chaperoned by Luke and one of his agents. It was his time, his turn.

And there Paula stood, looking as lovely and sexy and welcoming as ever.

He wasn’t about to keep her waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom takes Paula home.

It was quiet in the taxi. Tom and Paula sat in the back, side by side but not quite together. It was almost chaste. Her right hand was set, just so, on the seat. Not reaching for him, mind. The little finger simply tapped away, beating a tiny, irregular beat on the seat

Of course she had been to Tom’s. Just a few times over the years. To say hello. Stop by for a drink, usually with Ben, before heading out to meet up with other friends. It had been a while since her last visit, but it looked much the same. Same sofa, bookshelves and coffee table. Fairy lights strung casually, not carelessly.

The dog was suitably adorable, and new. Cautious of this new person. But once she took off her heels and knelt on the floor, offering the back of her hand to sniff, the pup licked enthusiastically at her wrists, then her face and neck.

When Tom let him out into the garden, she refilled the dog’s bowl. Tom smiled his thanks while the little dog lapped at the water.

“Something to drink?” Tom asked, peering inside the refrigerator.

“Water?” Paula shrugged. “I don’t feel like drinking anymore.”

“I’ve got a carafe… upstairs.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “By the bed.”

It was the way he said it that touched her. The pause before he said “upstairs”. The beat that preceded “By the bed.” The last bed, Paula supposed, after all the others. _His_ bed. She pictured something spartan — unpatterned sheets, _maybe_ a couple of extra pillows for the occasional (rare?) overnight guest — on a king size bed. Firm. A headboard, low and made from a dark, heavy wood.

She made a note to look for restraints on the legs.

She wondered if Tom was wondering what she would look like sprawled in his bed. Would she already be naked, or would he undress her himself. Command her to strip. Would he follow, or issue commands for her to obey.

_Lie back. Get on your hands and knees. Spread your legs. Open your mouth. Kiss me._

There was no laughter or flirty glances now. He simply took her hand, then lead her upstairs.

He kissed her at the foot of his bed. And when he did, he did so slowly, teasingly — holding her face in his hands, nuzzling her cheeks, licking just inside her tender lips before teasing her tongue with his own. His hands wandered, lingering over her breasts, over the fabric of her dress, before settling on her hips. Tom sucked at the crook of her neck, and his nose twitched when he smelled a trace of something rich and bitter. Heavy. A man’s cologne, not a woman’s subtle perfume. Michael.

“Should we…” Paula sighed between kisses. “Shower? It’s humid.” She pressed her lips to the middle of his chest. “Could be nice.”

“Oh?” Tom pressed himself against her, grinding his hips ever so slightly to press his semi-hard cock against warmth of her belly. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after?”

“Well,” Paula replied. “We waited ten years. What’s another five minutes?”

“I don’t think I care to wait much longer,” Tom rasped.

“I was with Michael an hour ago.” Paula pretended to pout.”Give a girl a break.”

“No,” replied Tom, simply.

Paula smiled. “Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s go.”

She took the side that was not hers so much as it was clearly not Tom’s. A nightstand with a lamp that was turned off, with no book or random household object to indicate claim. His side had a few books, another pair of glasses. A single drawer that wasn’t quite shut.

Paula was about to undress herself when Tom grabbed her from behind and captured her in his arms. Arms wrapped snug but not tight, his cock harder now and ever insistent against the small of her back.

“Do you remember how we met?”

Paula nodded. “I do.”

“That party.”

“You mean the orgy?” Paula smirked.

“Everyone in masks, black tie”

“So a fancy orgy.”

“Poor Ben,” Tom sighed. “That damn mouth of his gave him away.”

“Which is why I had to put him to work,” Paula murmured. “Give that mouth of his something to do.”

“I saw,” Tom said, gulping. “I remember.”

“Yeah?” Paula turned her face up to him.

“The two of you on that big bed in the back room. Next to that old geezer who fell asleep with his trousers around his ankles.”

“Is that right?” When Tom nodded, Paula gave him the tiniest of smiles. “Show me.”

Tom pushed her back, gently, so when she fell back on the bed it was with a soft bounce. He pushed his hands up her thighs, letting them rest just at her hip while she untied her dress. It fell open easily, revealing that while she wore a flimsy lace bra, there were no underpants. Tom took a breath at the sight of her mound. He had only to breathe again once before Paula lay back and spread her legs for him.

His fingers were cool as they pressed into her warm flesh, hands big enough that he easily got a good hold of her thighs before pulling her down to him. Before he leaned in, Paula laughed at him. Sweetly. She tousled the hair on top of his head.

“I can take your glasses, if you like,” she whispered, smiling at the sheepish look he gave her.

She smelled like the earth and the ocean. A flick of his tongue against brought salt again, and more heat. She wasn’t wet so much as creamy, the soft flesh of her sex and her essence beckoning in his tongue further in so his nose fit perfectly against her clit. He nuzzled, waving his face from side to side so his beard tickled the inside of her things. It made her laugh, made her tremble. He tightened his fingers around her thighs, then did it again.

Tongue pointed and stiff, he fucked her with it. He relaxed it to lick the folds clean before fucking her with it again. The deeper Tom went in, the closer she needed to be so he had no choice but to move his hands to her ass, lift her slightly, and redouble his efforts. Take gulping breaths so he could suck at her, kiss her, lick her. Her pubic hair tickled his nose and he almost sneezed.

Paula twisted her hips to one side, but not wanting to disconnect completely, she grabbed him around the ears and pulled. It was a struggle, a delicious one at that for as she arched her back and tightened her thighs Tom resisted. Kept his nose down and his tongue out, licking and sucking faster when her whines grew louder and higher. Then his tongue was plunging back inside, deeper and deeper, followed by a finger crooked just right as it felt for that tiny spot. A hidden place, and then it was there and his tongue was still licking. He snorted, high on her scent. He moaned, drunk on her taste. He could hear Paula pleading, begging for more, and he felt it in her body.

And when she came, she thrashed around him. Thighs closed so what he heard was muffled. Still caught up licking, sucking, fingering — lost in her body and hearing his name over and over again. Loudly, then quieter and quieter until she was left whimpering.

Tom crawled up, and he became aware that he was still clothed. Shirt soaked with sweat, he ripped that off while Paula’s hands scrambled for his belt and fly. He kept himself up while she pushed his trousers down, and his cock revealed itself to be hard and heavy, leaking so much at the tip. Paula reached for him, running her fingers gently underneath it, and Tom nearly collapsed. It felt so good but he was so sensitive and so close.

He thrust into her grasp, once and then again, before she scooted up and pressed the head of his cock to her sex. Tom pushed in, and wasted no time in fucking her. It was fast and hard, ass clenched with every inward thrust he bottomed out with every stroke. He felt Paula’s body go slack, even as her nails dug into his shoulders.

He could barely say the words, found it difficult to ask in the middle of this heat, “I’m gonna come… where…” before she hissed _“In me.”_ and he did. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, just before, and then he was sobbing. Huge gulps of breath as his body went stiff, his hips rough and erratic as he pumped cum into her pussy. She was hot and tight. Good. Just like he thought she would be.

This was one of  his favorite parts. Lying there. On top. Dick still inside. Spent and exhausted and debauched. Paula’s breaths were deep and even, and she placed one of her hands on the nape of his neck. He could have lain there forever. The people he’d slept with before — they were always eager to get up. Either to do it again or go on to something else. Leave.

Tom raised his head to look at her face. Paula stared at the ceiling, her eyes open and bright. She was smiling, like she had a secret she was dying to tell. He had to know.

“What?” Tom whispered, kissing her neck.

“That was…” Paula began to say.

“Fast? Boring?” Tom wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry, it’s been a while for me but…”

“No,” Paula interrupted. “Clean. Straightforward.”

“Erm, okay.”

“It was good, Tom. Not awkward considering it was the first time.”

“I thought so, too.” Tom agreed, pushing himself up.

Paula growled then used her heel to nudge him back down. “No.”

“No?” Tom nuzzled her cheek, and let himself sink back in. He wasn’t hard anymore, but wasn’t about to slip out any time soon.

“I like this part,” Paula confessed. “The lying here. Sorta dozing.”

“Me, too.”

“Just for a moment. Maybe two.”

“Maybe three.”

“Okay.” Paula kissed his temple. “Three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I have another story idea for these two. Maybe with Michael if he feels like returning. We'll see!


End file.
